It’s so important to keep a place in our hearts for child-like wonder to make its home; a place where innocence and the spirit of play can live out their days far away from the cares and stress of the adult world.
There are a lot of experts in the field of “finding your bliss” today. Over and over we hear about the importance of fidelity, honesty, (BLAH, BLAH, and BLAH) and the never far from the top of the list- selflessness… There’s an endless barrage of books written on the subject…ineptly termed “self help” books. I think that’s hilarious.
I ‘m confounded by the fact that so many self help gurus get richer while the people they are supposed to be helping become even more miserable. What happened to FUN, people? Why aren’t they called “Fun Gurus” and why do we need them to write books in the first place? Where in all those books is the importance of play; and of equal importance, our playmates?
Make no mistake- I love my children, and have laughed more with them collectively than any other group of people. It’s different, though. Frequently I am laughing AT them, and they are laughing at themselves…and we all laugh at me. My children are incredible human beings, each and every one of them; being mother to them has been a source of love and enlightenment that I am humbled to be the recipient of…I treasure them, and love them dearly. But-
Mr. Wilson was, is, and always will be, my favorite playmate.
Life with J.C. is just…different. I never had a friend like him. I’m glad he’s around to lighten me up. I have a tendency to get caught up in the details sometimes, or to immerse myself in the “planning” until I’m drowning in it. J.C. is only going to leave me out there for so long…Then here he comes- my life preserver. Sometimes it’s more like my hammer to the head. Whatever form it takes, he runs a good interference between me, me, and me. I NEED that, and having found it, I know how blessed I am. I’m not an easy person to live with or understand, sometimes. I can be pretty intense. That’s when I need J.C.- he is a pro at “play”.
You have to encourage each other (and all those you love) to be silly, to let go sometimes and live in that childlike stage again. Remembering why we’re here (REALLY HERE) is not a natural tendency. As adults, we push playtime aside. I’d like to know when “play” became a bad thing. Why is it referred to in derogatory terms as something that “selfish” individuals do; actions that detract from the glory of modern adulthood? It’s such a simple thing, really, to allow you to play. I spent a lot of my life trying to uphold some unwritten standard of “grown folk’s glory”. I was miserable, and it took a major life change to open my eyes- and lighten my spirit. It shouldn’t be that hard.
So go outside today- take a walk with your lover. Ride bikes with a child and let them describe the world to you that they see. Throw a ball for your dog and chase it too- or better yet, go to your local shelter and adopt an old dog…give someone else the gift of a playmate. Paint a picture- with your hands. Go visit a neighborhood nursing home and make some new friends- and photograph them for free. Ride a motorcycle. Play hooky. Get a group of friends together and play a game of football- the tackle kind. Climb a tall tree and look around.
Just for a day, run- don’t walk- away from the seriousness.
“To play” is a verb.
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